Supersonic Sadness
by iloveromance
Summary: When Bulldog learns that his beloved Sonics basketball team has been sold, he is completely distraught and on the verge of a deep depression. But then the unexpected happens in the most surprising way. A variation of "Love Bites Dog" Featuring Bulldog and Roz.
1. Chapter 1

"Great show, Frasier! You know, I really think you helped a lot of people today!"

Smiling at the compliment, Frasier took off his headphones. "Well thank you, Kenny. That's always nice to hear. I can only hope-."

"Yeah, yeah, you hope you can help more people next time! I've heard this what, like fifteen times already?"

Frasier rolled his eyes. "Hello, Bulldog."

Bulldog pushed his cart and gong into the studio, narrowly missing his predecessor's knee.

"Hurry up; I have a show to do so get out!"

Roz opened the door of the booth and grabbed Frasier's arm. "Come on Frasier, let's get out of here. I'm sure there are more important things to do besides listening to some boring sports radio show. Like watching paint dry!"

Bulldog laughed; an annoying sound that pierced Roz's ears.

"Speaking of paint, I met this woman last night." Bulldog said. "After a few drinks we went over to my place and-."

"STOP!" Frasier yelled; his hand in the air. "Bulldog, I mean no disrespect, but I have no desire to know what kind of revolting acts you've discovered are possible with a can of paint and an unsuspecting woman!"

"What are you talking about? I was just going to say that when we got to my place, she took one look at my bedroom and-."

"STOP!" Frasier yelled again.

"...said she would help me finish painting it." Bulldog finished. "What did you think I was going to say?"

"Never mind." Frasier replied with a shudder.

Following Frasier out of the booth, Bulldog held up his hands. "Wait, you're not even going to tell me? Come on, one little hint? That kind of information could come in handy, you know!"

"Bulldog, you're on in five!" His producer Pete called from the booth.

"Damn!" Bulldog yelled, rushing back into the studio.

"On in five... four... three... two..."

"This is Bulldog Briscoe and you're in the doghouse! Hey, how about those Sonics last night? Were they on fire or what? I see big things in their future, like a NATIONAL CHAMPIONSHIP, BABY!"

Frasier cringed at the sight of Bulldog through the window, holding his hands in the air and yelling as though he'd won a coveted prize. Sonics indeed! In disgust he pulled on his coat and walked away.

Meanwhile, Bulldog barked loudly, causing Roz to cower wondering why she was still watching him. The guy was a loser in every sense of the word.

"All right, who's our first caller?"

"We have Stan from Stanwood on line one." Pete said.

"Wa-waiiiittt a minute. Your name is Stan?" Bulldog asked.

"_Last time I checked."_ Stan said.

"And you're calling from Stanwood?"

_"Yeah."_

"Stanwood, _Washington_?"

"_What in the hell is this, an interrogation? I gave all this information to Pete, and I just wanted to-."  
_

Bulldog laughed hysterically, stopping only when he saw Pete's glare.

"That's the most hilarious thing I've ever heard!"

"_What's so funny about it?" _

"You really have to ask?"

"Bulldog!" Pete interrupted. "Your show is only two hours long! You're really gonna spend it arguing with a caller about his name?"

"Oh, right. So what's on your mind, Stan?"

There was a click and the buzz of the dial tone.

"Fine Stan, don't talk to me! You're a _loser!_" Bulldog yelled. "You probably call yourself Stan to milk revenue from the city of Stanwood!"

"We have Mark on line three with a comment about the Sonics."

Bulldog sighed with relief. "All right! Finally someone intelligent to talk to! Mark you're in the doghouse with Bulldog Briscoe!"

"_Yeah, Bulldog I wondered what you thought about the Sonics being sold to Oklahoma City." _

The gong Bulldog was holding fell from his hand, the intense sound resonating throughout the studio.

"I-I'm sorry what was that?"

_"I said-."_

"Because it sounded like you said that the Sonics are leaving Seattle."

_"Well, that's exactly what I said."_

"That's a good one!" Bulldog laughed.

"_It's no joke." _

"Right. Shows how smart you are, trying to pull one over on me. Bulldog Briscoe knows a joke when he hears one. I'm the king of jokes around here. I mean, big deal that the Sonics don't have a chance in hell to make the playoffs, but I'm sure that next year-."

He looked up to see Pete waving a newspaper at him through the booth window.

"What in the hell are you doing? Can't you see I'm trying to do a show here and-."

Roz appeared next to Pete, holding up the newspaper and suddenly the reality became all too clear.

For written in bold letters was the headline;

_**END OF AN ERA... BELOVED SEATTLE SUPERSONICS SOLD TO OKLAHOMA CITY BUSINESSMAN. **_


	2. Chapter 2

Pete stared at Bulldog who in turn was staring into space in an almost catatonic state.

"Hey man... you okay?"

But Bulldog said nothing and instead continued to stare, having no idea that Pete was even speaking to him.

_"Look, are we gonna talk Sonics or not because I don't have all day here!_" Stan was saying. "_I've got a wife and a kid... not to mention a life! And I'll be damned if I'm going to spend my precious time listening to some idiot who clams to be such a sports expert when he has no clue that the Sonics are gone!"_

"Yeah?" Bulldog shot back. "Well... You're an idiot too... because... Well you just are!

So what do you think of that?"

The buzzing dial tone answered his question.

"Fine, be a jackass! See if I c-ca-care!"

Pete stared at Bulldog in disbelief when the sport show host's voice broke and he began to cry. At a loss for what to do, Pete cut to commercial and stormed into the studio where Bulldog was sobbing into his hands.

"What in the hell is wrong with you, man?" Pete yelled. "You know better than to freak out during a show! What will your listeners think?"

"_Screw_ the listeners!" Bulldog yelled. "They don't know crap about sports! They have no idea what it's like, Pete... Cheering them on, devoting your whole life to them only to have them rip your heart out while it's still beating and laugh in your face!"

He saw Pete cringe at the disgusting image and almost smiled. "It stinks! It's total BS! It's... Oh God..."

The studio door opened and Kenny walked in looking none too happy.

"What in the world is going on in here? Why did you cut to commercial already? The show's barely started! The phone lines are lighting up like a telethon! Now get back on the air! I can't understand what's gotten into you two!"

"It's not me, Boss. It's Bulldog." Pete pointed out.

Kenny's hands went to his hips. "Bulldog what's the problem?"

"I want to die!" Bulldog wailed.

"Yeah? Well, it'll happen one day. Just make sure it doesn't happen during the show! I have ratings to consider, you know!"

"That's all you jerks care about are your damn ratings!" Bulldog retorted. "You're all alike! You have no hearts whatsoever! Don't you realize what an institution the Sonics are? Loved by the city of Seattle for years and years and when you've got icons like Michael Norseburg-."

Pete flinched. "Michael Norseburg? You hate him! Why you told a listener just the other day that you hope he finds himself dangling by one foot off of the Space Needle!"

Bulldog wiped his eyes and sniffled. "Yeah, so?"

"Does that sound like something someone would wish on an icon?"

"Get lost, okay?" Bulldog yelled. "I just want to be left alone to grieve in peace."

Kenny sighed irritably. "Fine, suit yourself. Pete... just put on the Best of Bulldog and-."

"My love for the Sonics was the best of Bulldog. Damn, you just don't get it do you? How can you call yourself a human being, man?"

"Apparently a lot easier than you can." Kenny replied.

"All right, run the Best of Bulldog." Pete said. "Clearly he's in no condition to go back on the air. But it our ratings tank, I swear I will take that job at KSPT so fast it'll make your head spin!"

With that he stormed back into the booth and slammed the door behind him, leaving in his wake one very depressed radio host and one extremely angry station manager.


	3. Chapter 3

"Damn! I forgot my purse! Hang on a second!"

Frasier rolled his eyes as he watched her walk down the hallway and into the booth.

"Roz, really! You'd forget your head if it wasn't attached to your body! Although it's not surprising that your little black book is firmly in your hand. God knows you'd never lose that! The world might come to a grinding halt!"

She turned around and glared at him. "Shut up, Frasier!"

"All right, I'm sorry. Just get your purse and let's get out of her! You know, when I offered to take you to dinner, I didn't expect to have to wait so long! I could have eaten an entire filet mignon in the time it will take you to find your blasted purse!"

Roz scoffed. "What, like all of thirty seconds? I mean, how big are filet mignon anyway? About the size of a deck of cards? My cat eats more than that in one sitting!"

Frasier's eyes narrowed. "But Roz, you don't have a cat!"

"All right, fine! But if I did it would... Oh damn it Frasier, you know what I mean!"

"Sadly, yes I do. And on that depressing note we really should get going. If we don't get there soon, we'll have to settle for the breakfast rush at Beth's Cafe!"

"Okay, okay! Just... let me make sure I have everything! I'll be right back!"

"Dear God, Roz! We're going to a restaurant not a Caribbean cruise! Oh... there's Kenny. I've been meaning to ask him something so I'll meet you out in the hallway. Just... hurry up, okay?"

"Well don't take all day, Mister!" Roz said. "I'm just going to go in here and-."

Her hand still on the doorknob, she stopped suddenly and stared through the window of the booth in disbelief.

"Oh my God..."

Slowly she entered the booth and moved closer, her mouth open in amazement as she continued to stare. Bulldog sat at the desk; the headphones askew on top of his head, sobbing into his hands.

"What the-Bulldog?"

Ignoring the stares of Frasier, Kenny and Pete, Roz walked through the booth and into the studio where Bulldog sat.

"What's wrong with him?"

"Beats me." Pete shrugged. "One minute he was arguing with a caller and the next thing I know he's crying like a baby."

Roz looked at Pete in alarm. "And you have no idea how this happened?"

"What do I look like, a shrink? Oh wait... I do know. The Sonics have been sold to some rich guy in Oklahoma but I don't see why he'd get so upset over-."

Ignoring Pete, Roz turned her attention to Bulldog. As she did so, she felt a strange sense of sympathy for him. And the mere thought made her shudder. What the hell did she care that he was crying over some stupid basketball team? He was a complete loser!

Figures that he wouldn't be crying over some woman. The man had no compassion when it came to the opposite sex... or sex in general for that matter. It was just a game to him... like everything else in life.

But as she moved closer, she had the strangest feeling that this went beyond mere insanity. Before she realized what was happening, she reached out and put her hand on his back. It was such a simple gesture but his sobs subsided if only slightly. Still...

"ROZ!"

She jerked her head around, surprised to find Frasier standing in the doorway of the booth.

"What?"

"Are you coming or not? The restaurant won't hold our reservation forever you know. Now would you mind telling me what's so fascinating that you're willing to risk losing reservations at the 3rd Avenue Bistro?"

She glanced back at Bulldog, prompting Frasier to move closer; his eyes widening in horror when he saw the crumpled sports show host.

"Dear God! Roz, he's hardly worth forfeiting lunch at the hottest place in Seattle over! Now come on! Just leave Bulldog to grieve over whatever woman has dumped him and let's go!"

Against her wishes, Frasier grabbed her arm and dragged her out of the studio. But as she looked at Bulldog's sad expression, she couldn't ignore the compassion she felt for him and worse... her sudden need to help him.


	4. Chapter 4

Frasier chuckled as he took a sip of his merlot, swishing the liquid around in his glass.  
"Would you look at that? Rarely have I seen such a fine glass of wine!" He held the glass to the light, letting the color shine through like a prism.

"You were saying?" Roz prompted, clearly uninterested in his fascination with his beverage of choice. She was perfectly happy with her diet soda, which she'd ordered despite his protests.

"What?" he asked, still staring at the glass. "Oh, right. Where was I?"

"Frederick."

"Right. Frederick. Oh Roz, you should have heard the way he was going on and on last night during our phone conversation about how he distracted a bully merely by reciting a line from Shakespeare! It was brilliant! And to think that it came from my son! Although I stupidly forgot to ask him which Shakespeare line he quoted because you know, the wrong line could have really gotten him into trouble. Imagine, if you will, that he quoted one from-."

He stopped suddenly when he noticed Roz staring into space.

"Dear God, Roz have you been listening to a word I've said?"

Frasier followed her gaze to a tall waiter with blonde hair who was leaning over to pick up some napkins, giving her what was surely a perfect view of his backside.

"No, of course not! You're too busy looking for Mr.-Right–at-this-moment. I should have known better than to take you here. Next time I'm finding a restaurant with an all female staff!"

At the increased volume of his voice, Roz turned her head. "What?"

"Well... Glad you could join me again. I was afraid your hormones were out of the office for the afternoon!"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Frasier looked at his producer in disgust. "Oh don't give me that! I saw the way you were looking at that waiter over there."

"What waiter?"

"Over th-Oh, never mind. If it wasn't the waiter, then what could possibly have you so distrac-."

She turned away, feigning interested in the wine list.

"Dear God!"

"What?"

"Don't tell me that you're worried about Bulldog!"

When her face reddened, she gulped down her diet soda and signaled for the waiter to bring her another.

"Bulldog? God, don't make me sick!"

"Roz..."

"All right, fine. I'm worried about him! Is that so wrong?"

"Actually... it's very disturbing. Perhaps we should talk about this."

"There's nothing to talk about all right? He just... I've never seen him like that before."

"Yes, well... there's a first time for everything. No doubt he was dumped by some... intelligent woman who couldn't handle his intellectual stimulation! Yes, I'm sure she'd be bored rather quickly with his views on opera and fine wine!"

"Go ahead, make fun of him!" Roz snapped, annoyed at the way Frasier rolled his eyes. "But if you were sobbing in your office, I wouldn't make fun of you! Well I would now. Look, I have to leave."

When she rose from the table and grabbed her jacket, Frasier put his hand on her arm in an attempt to stop her.

"Roz_, really_! What has gotten into you? Have you completely lost your senses? Bulldog is nothing but a complete-."

"Goodbye, Frasier!" Roz called to him. Against his protests, she ran out of the restaurant, anxious to return to the studio.

Even she couldn't figure it out. Why was she so damn concerned about Bulldog? He was a total loser and he was bound to take any hint of sympathy she gave him as an invitation to sleep with him.

She shuddered at the thought. Once was bad enough.

But as she walked quickly down the sidewalk en route to the KACL studios, she began to run, suddenly realizing that she could hardly wait to see him.

And the thought warmed her heart... in a weird, psychotic kind of way.


End file.
